Dude, Where's My Country_ - Michael Moore [17]
You repeated that same story a month later at another “town hall” gathering in California.87 The only problem with the story is that you didn’t see the first plane hit the tower—no one saw it live on TV, as the tape wasn’t aired until the next day.88 But that’s okay, we all were confused that morning.
You entered the classroom around 9 a.m.89 and the second plane hit the south tower at 9:03 a.m.90 Just a few minutes later, as you were sitting in front of the class of kids, listening to them read, your chief of staff, Andrew Card, entered the room and whispered in your ear. Card apparently was telling you about the second plane and the part about us being “under attack.”91
And it was at that very moment that your face went into a distant glaze, not quite a blank look, but one that seemed partially paralyzed. No emotion was shown. And then . . . you just sat there. You sat there for another seven minutes or so doing nothing. It was, to say the least, weird. Creepy. You just stayed there in your little kid’s chair and listened to children read, listening peacefully for five or six minutes.92 You didn’t look worried, you didn’t excuse yourself, you weren’t rushed from the room by your advisors or the Secret Service.
George, what were you thinking? WHAT was going on inside your head? What did that look on your face mean? Of all the questions I’ve asked you, it is this one that has me totally stumped.
Were you thinking you should have taken reports the CIA had given you the month before more seriously? You had been told al Qaeda was planning attacks in the United States and that planes would possibly be used. There had been previous intelligence reports talking of al Qaeda’s interest in attacking the Pentagon.93 Were you saying to yourself at that moment, “Well, thank God they didn’t fly into the Pentagon!”?
Or were you just scared shitless? It’s okay if you were, we all were. Nothing wrong with that. Except, you have taken on the mantle of commander in chief and that means you have to command when we are under attack, not just sit frozen in a chair.
Or maybe you were just thinking, “I did not want this job in the first place! This was supposed to be Jeb’s job; he was the chosen one! Why me? Why me, Daddy?” Hey, we understand. And we don’t blame you. You looked like a lost puppy who just wanted to go home. Suddenly, this was not the party you thought it would be, and you were no longer the CEO/President; you were now expected to be the Warrior/President. And we know what happened the last time you were expected to perform in a military uniform.
Or . . . maybe, just maybe, you were sitting there in that classroom chair thinking about your Saudi friends—both the royals and the bin Ladens. People you knew all too well that might have been up to no good. Would questions be asked? Would suspicions arise? Would the Democrats have the guts to dig into your family’s past with these people (no, don’t worry, never a chance of that!)? Would the truth ever come out?
Within the hour you were on a plane—not back to Washington, D.C., to lead the nation in its defense and comfort a frightened citizenry, not even to nearby MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa where the army’s central command is located.94 No, you ran—first to Louisiana, and then halfway across the country to Nebraska to go into hiding underground.95 How reassuring that was for the rest of us! For weeks afterward you and your people pushed the phony story that it was for your own safety because you yourself were the intended target of al Qaeda.
Of course, the problem with that story is that any dunderhead knew that if hijacked planes are being used as missiles, the last place you wanna be is up there